Delectable
by Pagan Ianthe
Summary: Dumbledore sets a few students a task worthy of someone up to something.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter characters; they are the creations of JK Rowling and the property of WB, Bloomsbury Books and Scholastic.  
**Author Note:** I wrote this a long time ago (2007) as part of a challenge. The criteria were: Dumbledore has a word of the week that the students have to look up and "use it in context" during the week. The word of the week is _delectation_. The characters to choose from were Blaise, Hermione, Harry, Draco. Choose a Slytherin and a Gryffindor.

**Delectable**

"Delectation," Dumbledore grinned at the 10 students in the room, his smile growing even wider when they looked at him with blank expressions on their faces. 

Hermione was as confused as the rest of them, she put her hand up and started to wave it frantically when it appeared that Dumbledore wasn't going to explain whatever it was he was going on about. 

"Yes, Miss Granger," he sighed, sure that he was in for a grilling, Hermione was nothing if not thorough, and sometimes it exhausted him. 

"What do you mean?" She picked up her quill and waited for him to say something, anything, that might give the students an idea of his latest crazy class plan. 

"Delectation. That is the word for this week. I want you to get into pairs - and no Mr Weasley that does not mean you can select Miss Granger and expect her to do all the work - and research the word. I want to hear each of you use it twice this week, in the correct context. 50 points to the pair that use it in the most creative way." Without waiting to hear their reaction, he swept out of the room, his robe floating out behind him in a way that would make Severus jealous. 

Slumping down his chair at the announcement that he couldn't pair up with Hermione - he just knew that she would come up with the best answers - Ron looked around the room, grimacing when he realised that the only people left were just as bad as him when it came to doing their assignments.

Hermione jotted down a few quick ideas next to the definition that she had already doodled along the margin of her notepad 'Delectation \dee-lek-TAY-shun\, noun: Great pleasure; delight, enjoyment', all it required was for her to get the right partner in the assignment.

"It looks like it'll be you and me, Granger," Blaise Zabini dropped a heavy leather-bound thesaurus onto the desk in front of her and sat down in the chair opposite her, looking for all the world as if he owned the place. "I am sure we don't need to go to the library to get out any books on the meaning of such a delectable word as delectation." He curled his tongue around the words, his chocolate-coated voice making them sound like a seduction.

Shaking her head to get the naughty image of Blaise Zabini feeding her chocolate, all the while whispering all manner of suggestive words in her eager ears, she focused on the confident Slytherin and narrowed her eyes at his casual manner. "I am sure that you can manage to find one decent and clean sentence to use in Dumbledore's presence, Zabini..."

"And I am sure that together we can find a nice selection for the old codger to get off on," he chuckled when he realised that he had manage to flap the unflappable Miss Hermione Granger, Head Girl and annoying know-it-all. Malfoy would never believe him!

"I hardly think that is why Dumbledore gave us this project," she spoke through gritted teeth, wondering what on earth she had done in a past life to deserve him as a partner.

"And I hardly think that you are qualified enough to read his mind and find out the real reason behind this pointless project, Granger," he studied his nails as he waited for the probable outburst of temper. He lived to wind her up! 

"Oh go and boil your head in some oil, Zabini," she muttered as she slammed her book closed and, scooping it up under her arm, stormed out of the classroom, all the while imagining all the ways she could make Zabini pay for being an irritating git of the first order - sometimes he even made Malfoy look human. 

The next morning when her alarm went off, Hermione rolled over and pulled the pillows over her head to cover her ears. She had been reading half the night, not anything academic - sometimes a girl needed the night off - and she had been drawn into the tales of Adam and Gabby, wondering if someday she would find herself a nice hunky highlander to stroke and lick. Unfortunately, thoughts of a nice tall, muscular highlander had merged into thoughts of a tall, dark, muscular snotty-nosed git with a voice for seduction - something he had proven to be good at over the last year (although never with her - not that she cared!), and she had spent the rest of the night fighting the urge to imagine him as she stroked her fingers under the elasticated waist-band of her knickers.

Reluctantly she rolled out of bed and, after a quick tepid shower, dressed and rushed down to the Great Hall to join her friends for breakfast. Her eyes opened wide when she noticed that there was a flakey croissant with homemade apricot preserves and golden churned butter on the table where she usually sat.

"For your delectation, Granger," she heard Blaise shout as she sat down to enjoy the French pastry, a wide grin on her face when she realised that now, thanks to this strange act of kindness, they were already halfway through their assignment, and they still had 6 days to go.

She closed her eyes on a moan as she popped a piece of the croissant into her mouth, having generously slathered both the jam and butter onto it, it was indeed perfection and, despite the hungry intent look that Ron was giving her plate, she wasn't going to share it with anyone.

Day two passed by without the presence of any French pastries, and it appeared as though Blaise was really going to leave half of the project up to her. "Better get thinking, Granger," he had told her as he had passed her in the corridor on the way to Advanced Potions after the croissant, but for some reason Hermione was totally stumped.

By day three Hermione was more than a little bit frustrated. At the beginning of the week, before the croissant, she'd had so many really good and subtle ideas, but now her mind was a total blank.

Day four passed by like a whirlwind. And still she hadn't been able to come up with anything that didn't sound so stupid Ron could have come up with it.

Day five and still nothing. Blaise had sat beside her as she watched Harry and Ron practice their various Quidditch stunts - none that she could name or likely recognise if she saw them again. "Better come up with something soon Granger, or we'll fail and it'll be all your fault." Having delivered that little tidbit he slipped his hand up underneath her robe and knee-length summer skirt for a second and squeezed her bare thigh, before standing up and walking back into the school.

"Git!" she yelled after him, but if he heard he made no sign of it.

Day six dawned bright and early with an owl knocking at her bedroom window. Blinking against the early morning sun, Hermione opened the window, took the note from the rather agitated, and bloodthirsty - it pecked at her finger as she undid the tie around his leg - owl, and unrolled the tiny piece of parchment. With a growl of frustration worthy of a harpy and, flinging the note across the room in the direction of the mirror on her dressing table, Hermione rushed angrily through her usual morning routine and stormed down the stairs (which were strangely co-operative) into the Great Hall.

Furious beyond measure at his presumptive notes, Hermione stomped over to where Blaise was sitting, chatting with Malfoy and a few of his other classmates and, uncaring of the attention that her slamming into the hall had garnered, grabbed Blaise by the collar of his untucked designer shirt, tugged it until he had a choice of either choking or standing and then, standing on tip-toe, captured his full lips with her own.

A few moments later, when she pulled away, amidst cheers and whistles, she wiped her mouth and glared at him, daring him to say something. "I do hope that you found that to your delectation, Zabini. You can be assured it won't happen again!" She turned to walk away, but got no further than the end of the table before he caught up with her, grabbed her wrist and tugged her into his arms.

"I don't know about that, Granger, but I am sure you will get better with practice."

THE END


End file.
